Monday, September 29, 2014

Twitter Poems

Do you use twitter? I do. It’s a great tool for connecting with other writers.  I often see links to blogs that interest me.  Twitter posts contain only 140 characters or less—a challenge for a poet.

A tweet on twitter
Connects me with writer friends
All alone and bored.

Sitting on the front porch
Chocolate cookie in hand
Waiting for my muse
To peek
From behind the clouds.

Caught on the barbed-wire
It fills and flaps in the wind
My plastic bag of dreams

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Flash Fiction Fun

It’s WonHundred Word Wednesday! 

The prompt: He hadn’t meant to scare the child 

It was a chilly Christmas Eve in Tucson, Arizona. Officer Tippets sat in his vehicle filling out paperwork when he saw a child in his headlights. She wore only a tiara and a diaper. “Where’s your mommy?” He hadn’t meant to scare the child but now she gagged between sobs. “Don’t cry, little one. I won’t hurt you.” He took off his jacket and wrapped it around her. “Come with me. We’ll find mom,” he said, carrying her to the warm police car. He took the emergency teddy bear from the glove box and she hugged it close. “Merry Christmas.”

 Check them out!

Jennifer Lee Alison Woods (Peering Into. . .): Amryn Scott: Canda Mortensen: Jaclyn Weist: Laura D. Bastian: Leah Sanders, inklings: Lindzee Armstrong/Lydia Winters: Miranda D. Nelson: Starimprint Wendy Knight, Author:
Jenna Eatough

Sunday, September 21, 2014

It's Autumn! Time for a Poem or Two

The maple leaves are beautiful right now! And the aspens are golden yellow patches on the mountainsides. I love autumn. Have you seen this poem by e.e. cummings? He focused on (and imitated) the action of a falling leaf in this  poem.






It might help to see the poem unbroken: 
"l(a leaf falls) oneliness." 
Cummings wrote the sentence so that the action of a leaf falling is actually contained within the word "loneliness." 
I wrote a poem inspired by the first line of a poem by a Canadian poet, Bliss Carman. 
"There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood"

There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood
Colder, longer nights,
the smell of wood smoke in the air.
One lonely fly buzzes by
my soup bowl,
What happened to summer?

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

WonHundred Word Wednesday!

Grandpa was old, bent over and blind when I’d sit by his knee and listen to the stories about the old country. They all began the same: before the war, life was simpler. Most vivid amongst the memories of his home town was the old church bell tower. The boys used to swing on the rope and chime the wrong time. How the priest would swear! Tears came to Grandpa's blind eyes. The last time they rang, he said, they warned of Russian bombers. If he ever heard the bells again, he’d know he was home. 

Now check out what the other writers did with this prompt!

Wendy Knight, Author:
Kelly Martin, Author:
Alison Woods (Peering Into. . .):

Monday, September 15, 2014

Monday is Poetry Day

Monday, Monday, so good to me; Monday morning, it was all I hoped it would be.”  Remember the song by the Mamas and Papas? It’s one of my favorites. I always sing along.

Monday actually means moon’s day. We were treated to a supermoon this summer. Did you see it? My son took this picture through his telescope. It’s not a supermoon, but it looks super to me.


The supermoon shines tonight.
Perfectly round,
Like a giant eye
It pierces the dark,
Probing the doings of men.
Oh, close the curtain!
I can’t sleep.

The Night Goddess

Once they worshipped me,
A comforting light in the darkest night,
       A mystery
              Close but unreachable.
Now no longer a mystery,
I’ve been boarded by earthmen.
Poked with a flagpole,
They left footprints in my dust.
Though sullied, I remain
A neighbor, a partner,

A glowing pearl on a black velvet night.

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

WonHundred Word Wednesday

This week's prompt: 

She had found something that would mean she'd never be poor again--but there was a catch.

Tasanee climbed a mountain of black plastic bags and looked out at a world of rubbish—the Bangkok dump. A sickening stench wafted through the air, but with luck she’d find discarded rice cakes for breakfast. Suddenly she slipped, falling on her back. Her hand broke a bag and rancid grease squished through her fingers. When she pulled out her hand, a ring came with it. Its diamond gleamed in the sunlight. She had found something that would mean she’d never be poor again—but there was a catch. If I try to sell it, they’ll think I stole it.

I'm curious to see what other writers have done with this prompt, aren't you? Check out the links and find out.

Jennifer Lee
Alison Woods (Peering Into. . .):
Amryn Scott:
Canda Mortensen:
Jaclyn Weist:
Laura D. Bastian:
Leah Sanders, inklings:
Lindzee Armstrong/Lydia Winters:
Miranda D. Nelson:
Wendy Knight, Author:

Sunday, September 7, 2014

A Poem and A Picture

Lighthouses are symbolic of hope and peace. Do you have a picture of a lighthouse hanging on the wall? Many people do. This one was drawn by a fifth grader in one of my art classes last year. Lighthouses inspire poets, too. I've included mine--entitled #1 and #2.

A lighthouse stands
Sending a beam of hope
across the waves.
Leading me home.

Wind and rain
Buffet my sails and
And I flounder,
The rocks loom close
But the light beam
Shows the way
To my safe harbor.

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

WonHundred Word Wednesday

It's WonHundred Word Wednesday and the prompt is about a fire, so I shared one of my favorite pictures. My son is a wildland firefighter. He took this picture of the crew gazing at the deer this summer. They work very hard--long, fourteen-hour days. The deer seem to be saying, "Thank you." We all say, "Thank you!"

Today's prompt: The fire was getting closer.

Eight year-old Tommy Monson ran to the spigot with a metal pail. His heart pounded and his eyes brimmed with tears as it filled with water. The fire was getting closer. The fire he had started. He only wanted to burn the weeds—clear the field for a campfire that night. But the flames had quickly grown. The dry weeds had ignited as though they’d been drenched in gasoline. Why did I take the matches? Why did I disobey my parents? “Help me, Heavenly Father,” Tommy prayed as he threw water on the flames. “I won’t do it again!” 

Now go check out what everyone else wrote from the prompt:

Wendy Knight, Author:
Kelly Martin, Author:
Alison Woods (Peering Into. . .):
Jessica Winn, The Distracted Writer: